


Children of R'lyeh, Act III: The Harbinger of Cthulhu

by Vosh



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Furry (Fandom)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vosh/pseuds/Vosh
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue: Recollection of a Past Life

[Branded with the Darksign](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMgYvI-NcY0)

_**Prologue: Recollection of a Past Life** _

_“_ _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn” is the saying that used to haunt my past self. It is what I abided by, lived by, preached to those that once thought me some figure relevant to their lives, their meaningless lives. To them, I was a gateway. A way to approach something which they would never realistically meet without reaching into the farthest depths of insanity, madness, corruption...all of which I once met, only to be pulled away at the last second as the feeling of another pulled me back to R'lyeh._

_Why I had not died in spirit that day is beyond me. I was merely a harbinger, a messenger, the bearer of a dark prophecy which I helped bring forth from my actions. But my actions were not entirely my own. I was pushed, prodded, tortured into doing what I did. The pain was unbearable, parts of my own being torn from the inside by the beast, the 'god' I once thought would save me from a world that had treated me so cruel simply because they knew what I was, where I had come from...but that did not stop the one true friend I had made from fighting for me._

_His name was Hunter Scott, a young man that ran into my nearly lifeless body when he explored the rim of this old city once known as 'New York'. Why he had decided to help me was and still is beyond my comprehension. To most, I was merely a beast washed ashore, a disfigured, mutated animal's corpse. I was not of their species, and they were not of mine. Humans, as I came to realize them, were a strangely familiar race akin to my own people. They worked, they played, they went about their lives. They had mates, they had children, they even participated in gatherings they called 'religion'. To this day I still wonder why they waged war over such a thing. Beliefs should not be forced on others, especially my peoples' beliefs._

_I was a young male exploring talents and knowledge I obviously was never supposed to delve into. I was warned, cautioned, even threatened to stop what I did. Young Ngirrth'luin who dive too far into the knowledge forbidden by the Elders tend to never turn back. I was no exception to this. I cannot even remember my true self, my original appearance, who I once was supposed to be. All of that is lost to the fragments of my own memories torn from my very mind by the Great Old One I once thought salvation for a lost cause._

_I still cannot believe myself to have been such a fool, so lost in my own interests that I refused to see what was actually happening to me, to those around me, and most importantly the world which I had trespassed into. My internal decay became the very thing that drove me to madness. Humans I once called friends turned against me while others that sought some dark freedom flocked to me. I had become the idolistic leader of some kind of cult, a corrupt prophet. I invoked the power of the God of Chaos and unleashed him, but not without the loss of who I once was._

_To those who may think of ever delving into this knowledge, I would advise you remain ignorant. There are things even those of us from the lost city of R'lyeh need not understand about our Gods. I warn you all to never seek their 'guidance', their 'knowledge'. Those who heed the call of Cthulhu or any other Great One will never see the light of day. I can only consider myself so lucky..._


	2. Emergence

[Brothers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEfN7FIeWi8)

_**Chapter 1: Emergence** _

In the deepest sanctum of the darkest, murkiest entrance to the sunken portion of R'lyeh lies a passageway to a region only few know of, that only fewer can traverse and even fewer can access. It had always been this way since the Ngirrth'luin had become accustomed to dry land, no longer needing to inhabit the waters along their drake-born cousins that still reside in these waters. The difficulty of navigating through this passageway lies with the secrets it holds, only able to be accessed and used by those of the near ancient. They are known as Elders, leaders in spirit and policy among the Ngirrth'luin, and their pasts as well as intentions are as enigmatic as the gods they follow themselves.

While their knowledge is astounding, it is also sound, or so it seems from the facade they apparently put on. Only a few have known of their actual appearances, their intentions...but those that did have not been heard from or seen since. Are they deceased? More than likely, for the secrets the Elders keep are not meant to be known, even to their own offspring. It is not uncommon for ritual sacrifices of such individuals. However, perhaps there is a deeper explanation to all of this. After all, knowledge beyond the comprehension of an individual is known to drive them to the brink of madness, therefore calling for the need of another specialized bloodline within the Ngirrth'luin hierarchy.

They were, and still are, known as Scholars; individuals blessed, or supposedly so, with the ability to comprehend, retain and translate forbidden knowledge and scriptures to those who would not be able to on their own. Few of them were ever born, an even rarer mutation than those of Alpha blood. Fewer have lived on. As it turns out, just like any Ngirrth'luin experimentation of their own people to push them even further along their path of self-destruction, Scholars could only retain knowledge. Their ability to comprehend was a myth, their talent in translating as void as the nonexistent planes between R'lyeh and other dimensions. This only drove them to madness faster once forced to serve their purpose once of adult age.

However, to even the surprise of Elders, there was at least one bloodline that contained the Scholar gene that seemed to have prevailed, even if only in the smallest glimpse of hope. He was the son of Elder Ahj'leyn, the youngest of the Elders, only ascending to his position after the refusal to take it by a female elected more highly than himself. Their reasons for hesitation to allow him the spot still stand to this day, one of them being that he is indeed capable of giving life to children of this accursed mutation, earning him the title of “the Eternally Damned”. His past was erased from all memories, scriptures and engravings, as all other Elders, leaving only him knowledgeable of it. Perhaps it is for the best that those of this age are known simply as leaders of a society which they hope to shape for the better...at least in their eyes.

Ahj'leyn's son was given the birth name of Ahj'liex, in homage to himself and his bloodline, though many tend to reiterate their birth name once older. In this case the boy quickly learned and demanded to be known as Alixandr, or Alix for short. For some reason he always seemed ahead of his generation. He was the first to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of individuals, their weapon choices and, of course, their mental breaking points. Try as they may, those who he engaged in small spars with during his young years were not able to lay a scratch on him. Not for his physique or reflexes, but ability to read an opponent with their first step and simply dodge or trip, sometimes both if need be.

Despite his efforts to prove he was not of a cursed bloodline, he was never treated the same as others. Seeing as Scholars are of an even rarer sight than Alphas, he was quickly pulled from participating in any physically demanding activity and forced to read and write during those sessions, sometimes even describing in real time on parchment the events of a fight, managing to squeeze in analytics of the two participating. His talents were never recognized by Caretakers or other children of his generation, however. To most he was a freak, something even stranger than the now normalized Alpha blooded, though there was at least one who did not think so.

It was among one of the last spars Alixandr was given the privilege of watching and recording, though surely because of this he'd taken even greater care in making sure he described every detail. It wasn't long before he found himself captivated by one of the combatants, though. By the end of the engagement he'd begun to review his work, finding that over the course of the fight his focus had started to center on one particular individual's motions and appearance, and her name was Vythica. She was simply an Alpha, but for some reason he felt she was different from any others of her pedigree, and not just for her beauty.

Once the spar had ended, Vythica refused to end the match until her opponent could land a single hit, leaving her to continue toying with the boy for what seemed an eternity. The Headmistress would not allow this and instead grabbed the male opponent by his scruff and dragged him away. It was a pointless fight, for the talent that Vythica had was similar in concept to Alixandr's own, though she could more fluently translate it all in real time, and possibly even multiple steps ahead. She simply sighed as it was officially over, grabbing her robe and donning it once more like all children of the Brood Tower were taught to. Her thirst for a worthy opponent was not sated, for she could not have possibly been among the top tier, “You'd think a girl as small as myself would have a harder time against larger males like that, ones who should be able to overpower and hold, wouldn't you agree?” she asked seemingly no one, her face staring away from Alixandr who was seated behind her, “Yes, I'm talking to you, Scholar. You analyzed this match, and I have a feeling your written analysis would be able to prove me right. After all, I've never faced a male opponent who didn't think the fight was in their favor due to those reasons.”

Alixandr was a bit confused and at the same time quite embarrassed. He could show her his work, but perhaps that was not the best approach to finally speaking to this girl he'd suddenly become infatuated with, “...you say that as if I'd been biased from the start. And do not refer to me with that so-called 'bloodline title'. You Alphas seem to like drawing on that to put me down as if I'm not equal. I used to spar like you, you kn-”

“Know your place, Scholar. You're speaking to an Alpha,” Vythica interrupted, though she slowly turned to face Alixandr, eyes closed at first but slowly opening to reveal those glowing green-ringed irises, “...apologies, I didn't mean to come off so rudely. I suppose the adrenaline can get to my head some times, though I'm not entirely sure if that's even a logical explanation for a slowly inflating ego.” Her voice had come off a lot softer than Alixandr expected, a wave of embarrassment flowing through him as he looked away, hood covering his face as he held his parchment closer to him, “Don't tell me you've suddenly grown shy now that I'm looking at you directly. I've seen your face already, and I've seen you fight. You're no fighter, but you and I do share similarities. What is your name, Scholar?”

“My name...” he began with a low and somewhat depressed tone, “...my name is Ahj'liex, though I've come to a rather distasteful opinion of that name's homage. You may call me Alixandr.”

“Alixandr, hm? A fitting name for someone of higher intellect,” she began as she took some steps toward him, finally seating herself gently next to him in a rather uncomfortably close proximity to himself, “You may call me Vythica, Vythica Phantasm. I named myself after learning that I was bastardized from birth by both of my parents. Perhaps we both have more in common than you think, Alix. It...is alright that I call you that, correct?”

He simply nodded, trying not to edge this moment on any longer, “Alix is fine, though...I'm sure you have somewhere else to be. I've my own agenda I have to tend to. Perhaps we can speak another time in the future, however long that may be. I've been told a different course of action is to be taken for me here soon. Possibly a permanent change. I only hope it is worthwhile in helping me achieve what I need to more efficiently.”

“You seem abnormally optimistic for change. That's not a good sign for the mental state of an individual, Alix. Perhaps you could join me as some sort of assistant? I'm sure I could convince the Headmistress. I have some pull around here,” she tried explaining to no avail, “After all, we have much in common, especially what lies within each of our skulls.”

With that he felt a slight tapping of a clawed finger press against his cranium, almost immediately flinching and jumping up from his seated position, dropping anything he'd used to work on the floor as he hurried away, “I have to go. I'm being summoned,” he stated sternly, not even looking back to figure his materials left behind might have been needed, including the profound and elegant description for a girl he knew he could not be allowed to become infatuated with. For someone like him was not deserving of such romance, not for someone of muck-ridden and accursed blood, or so he thought.

It was only a few days later that Alixandr found himself sitting alone during Feasting Hour no longer. Vythica had begun to casually seat herself near him, still prodding at him to join her as an assistant of sorts, of which every attempt he quickly shot down. However, Vythica knew better than he liked to admit, “I know you've fallen in love with me, Alix. For what reasons? I wish I could really say, but that parchment you left behind our first encounter taught me enough. If you are afraid to admit that, it's fine. It's only natural we have fears, though...I do wish you'd talk to me more.”

He'd immediately set his food down, standing up to walk off once more, but not before offering the rest of his meal to the Alpha girl, “...I've lost my appetite. Take the rest. I'd rather it not be wasted on one of the Common,” he explained as he left promptly, “And you're right, I am afraid. It's all I've ever been, and probably ever will be.”

Oddly enough, this set off alarms even in the mind of Vythica, though she did not act upon them. Perhaps it was best for her to stop asserting for the time being. Sometimes patience was a greater virtue than dominance...only, perhaps she should have continued on. It would be nearly two Turns before she'd finally caught sight of the boy once more, though something was terribly off. It was a strange presence. He was not the same he once was for something seemed to lurk over his shoulders at all times. Maybe this was her mind's way of depicting a wave of guilt or fear that hovered over his shoulders. Whatever it was, it was enough for her to remain distant for the time being, at least until she decided to follow the boy back to his personal quarters.

It was strange following him, for this wing of the Brood Tower was technically unmapped. It was darker than the rest, and much more murky, swamplike even. Was this a result of whatever loomed over him? Perhaps, it seemed likely, but at the same time this was such a strange occurrence that her mind could not possibly come to a logical conclusion. Early stages of madness via exposure? A plausibility.

Before long she caught sight of a door opening before him, the high pitched and horrid squeaking of the wooden panels scraping against the stone flooring echoing through the hallway as a strange set of individuals emerged from the room.

“How are you holding up, child? I assume you've been memorizing and attempting to translate. That shadow that grows over your shoulder tells me so.”

“Yes, indeed. What have you learned, Ahj'liex?”

“Anything of significance? Anything important to the survival of our kind?”

“Most importantly, anything that could help your people ascend further.”

Alixandr remained quiet for a few moments before stepping back into his room, politely shoving the others out and slowly closing the door while muttering, “There are worlds outside of ours which we cannot comprehend, gods that exist beyond our wildest imaginations and planes which cannot be explored by those restricted to a single mental state. He speaks of one much different from ours, and he has plans for that place. Now leave me be, I need to reflect on this some more you leeches...” His tone was monotonous, as if most of his drive was now all but completely gone, and for some reason she thought she caught a glimpse of a strange yellow hew glowing from the eyes of Alixandr.

“You there, young Alpha. What are you doing in this portion of the Tower? You have other, more important and prominent things to tend to,” the voice of one of the strange figures called out to Vythica, “...ah, Vythica is it? We've been following you for some time, you know. Here, follow us back to the Headmistress. There are things the Elder Council would like to discuss with her about your soaring excellence.”

Behind that closed door he could hear the Elders contacting Vythica. He knew she'd followed but did not dare to speak to her, not now anyways. He was close to finally achieving something worthwhile to someone of his cursed nature, something astoundingly large and important to his people. He was told if he could do this he would be stripped of his accursed background and allowed to start anew as any other, and that was all he ever wanted. With that he dove back into the many scrolls and scriptures that littered the surface of his old, broken desk, muttering to himself words even he could not fully comprehend yet, except for one specific line that continued to stand out to him and made itself easier to pronounce over time, “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh _Cthulhu_ R'lyeh wgah'nagl _fhtagn...” The words echoed in his head, as if they controlled his every thought every time he heard them, said them or read them. This marked the beginning of the tragic downfall of a child promised freedom through damnation of his own being._

_* * *_

Many turns later Alixandr could still be found in his room, now seemingly lost to the silent incantations of terror that quietly echoed through the room for him and only him to hear and respond to. His generation had forgotten about him, the only trace of him that single piece of parchment that still laid hidden under the bed of that girl he'd fallen in love with, only to push her away to continue his search, and in his wake of self-perpetuated delusion he began to see what those that have ascended beyond any known plane of knowledge could see: another world, one vulnerable enough to invade and provide this knowledge to those that seek it, but only to those that can perceive it.

The longer the boy thought about it, the more it became apparent that he was not seeing this world on his own accord. No, there was something more occurring now that had not before. The voices he once thought to simply repeat in his head now verbally growled through his room, against anything that stood and infiltrated his mind. It spoke in tongues he did not think he understood, but the longer the noise reverberated within his cranium, the more clear it became, “...Earth,” The single world he spoke was one he was not familiar with, yet for some reason he'd blurted it out, “Your new home, my future destination.”

It all became a blur. Everything he once experienced began to flash before his discolored eyes, seemingly deleting themselves from his memory as his sanity began to break. He laughed, he screamed and he even cried. What was this sensation? The madness that was taking place drove him so deep into the depths of his own memory that he could even see his birthing, only to have it snapped and broken as the reality he once knew became nothing, his being sapped in such a way that perhaps he was melting from sheer, raw exposure to this all. Was this the bidding and influence of Cthulhu?

...Cthulhu? The name, the name! It squealed in a tone he could not hear, yet it pained him when it did, leaving him helpless as he felt what he believed his body fall to the cold, wet stone floor. This out of body experience...was he dead? Dying? He could see himself collapsed, useless and limp on the floor yet still smiling and silently crying. The cosmos, he could see them! Everything was so clear yet so...wrong! What was truth? Nothing, for the infinite was merely life to them, the Great Ones! Why him? Why him! The sensation grew as he could feel the voices make his fur stand on its own, his body still helplessly lost to this all as it lay lifeless on the ground, that smile, that forced sensation and reaction!

The world began to crumble, warp, even turn itself inside out. His room was no longer that, but rather a blank void of vast nothingness. He was somewhere, but he was nowhere. He could see his body being pulled in one direction, only to feel it tugged in another direction. What was this? Was this death? Rebirth? No, this was the power of the one he'd dedicated his life to in order to free himself from the simple binds of living in a world that could not comprehend what he did, and with that came the ability to see, to unveil, to free oneself from the shackles of perceived reality. This was what the Elders sought, but could not attain, for it was not theirs to rightfully take.

No, this was the right of a single individual who sought to become the harbinger of gods unbeknownst to a world that was so young, so innocent, so malleable that perhaps its people could do what his people could not: serve without retaliation. That was the true weakness of the Ngirrth'luin, why they could never see what he's seen, why they could never achieve what he has by simply delving into forbidden knowledge. If only they were capable of allowing the power of these cosmic anomalies to control their thoughts, to let them experience what it was truly like to finally be above the simple laws of a mortal lifestyle! He was given a taste, an example, and now he traveled as they did to a place that cried for the release of their own blindness to see what they truly deserved to see: the Truth.

* * *

The day had begun to grow long, boring more so than anything. Nothing had changed since the dawn and integration of people like himself into this now multicultural, multiethnical and multispecied world. However he could not help but be thankful that it had happened in the first place. After all, history is generally bound to repeat itself, is it not? Probably a bit of an overstatement when he thought about it. History did repeat itself as people became ignorant of it, but not in the way that those of higher education claimed it would. Not to say there wasn't a time of unneeded violence, but it was to no degree as similar as something severe such as a genocide.

As he leaned back into the half destroyed bench that sat along the edge of a half drained shore he thought back on what things may have been like if the Anthromorphic Dawning had never occurred. Perhaps resources would be more plentiful? After all, becoming civilized involved consumption of them. But when he thought about it more he came to the conclusion that humans, like the family that took him in when he was young, were no different than his primal roots. So there he sat, in contemplation of where this life might take him next. Lost deep in thought, imagination running rampant as he thought to himself in soft mumbles, “Maybe this is the course that life has chosen to take. Hmph...Darwinism...”

The theory of evolution, something that had already been proven correct in this day and age, and people like himself were living, breathing proof of the concept. Not born from mutation or genetic experimentation, but rather need. A need to feel more welcomed, yet also discriminated against. A need to feel as they felt and do as they did. A need to feel...important, wanted and useful to those they had once watched silently from their habitats until the choice was made and slowly took form over the course of time humanity progressed. Yet they stuck to remaining hidden for what seemed centuries, only revealing themselves to humanity at key points in their history, giving the illusion that they were perhaps blessed with higher beings of power.

No, it was simply them. They were kin, yet they were alien, and as such they were treated with special recognition, those that had dared to integrate during those times. It can be read and viewed on or in almost any source an individual could think of. From books, to papers to online searches, people like himself had been recognized as rare deities, gods or even blessed beings sung about in folk song or tribal chants. And because of this it made it much easier to finally integrate into their culture, their friendships, their conversations. And that was all they'd ever wanted, and for that to have been the world Hunter Scott was bastardized into he could deny his appreciation. The compassion a human foster family could show for a wolf-blooded being such as himself was the stuff his ancestors only spoke of in imaginary stories. He considered himself blessed by the angels themselves, “Life's good, don't you think pop's?” he asked quietly as he stared up at the now poorly saturated blue sky, rays of sunlight reflecting off of his mane's rough yet shiny coat, “We all miss you...”

But it is days like these that seem to drastically change at the most abrupt of moments. After all, that which is not known will make itself known at some point or another, in some way or fashion, for better or for worse. And it was the sudden waft of brine that seemed to wash up from the strangely growing tide that indicated this dire moment in the life of a young man who'd promised to himself that he would help keep the Scott legacy alive through his resilience to the ever changing condition of this world. A new dawn was approaching, slowly, and this young man named Hunter, by the man who had welcomed him into his own family with and open mind and heart, would be the first to witness something he would have never imagined to even be a feasible possibility: a true alien.

However this alien did not enter this world as archived science fiction stories and films depicted them to have. Those were simply the imaginations of past generations run rampant based on the ridiculous assumption that aliens to this world were akin yet mutated gremlins of their own image. Yet as he peered out in the direction the scent continued to travel from he could not help but think that perhaps, within the deepest reaches in his own mind, that was what he was seeing. But there was no ship, no unidentified vessel that carried the messengers from another world, no dramatic lighting with booming vocal demands for his world's leader. What he simply saw was something akin to himself, floating lifeless towards the shore that seemed to have restored itself for the sake of this body.

He stood from his seat rather quickly, immediately removing his coat, beanie and shoes as he began to sprint down this coast towards the body, yet for some reason he could feel a strange presence, something alien and malicious the closer he got, “No time for negative-nancy bullcrap, Hunter!” he grumbled to himself as his breathing intensified once the cold sea water chilled his body from his feet up. The cold was nothing to him usually, but this was something different. It stung to move deeper in, but with a deep breath and a steeling of his nerves Hunter made the dive into the ever deepening water, beginning his swim towards the body.

The water felt like it was trying to engulf him, consume him even. Thoughts of something otherworldly began to flood his mind the closer he came to the surface once more. The water began to rage around him, almost wrestling him back down under as he tried catching sight of what was hiding on the surface. With powerful and confident strokes he pulled his way back up towards the foamy and now green sea water's surface, only to feel himself pulled back under as he caught sight of the sudden storm that had begun to brew above him, “ ...yshugg! Yshogg! Ytharanak!” the words pierced his mind as he gripped as his ears in pain.

Was he losing this fight? No, he was simply being bullied by some deep, forgotten guilt. He was stronger than this, he was better than some freak storm. So with one last push back up to the surface, he vocally growled beneath the water, fighting his way to the surface of this malicious event. He was not useless, he was as strong and determined as his father was. And with that, he surfaced once more, only to come face to face with the body that he'd fought to rescue. But what was he fighting? The storm was gone. The water was blue once more. And he himself...well, he'd never dove into the water. Instead he simply stood next to the floating body at waist level, a hand clasping onto the body's hand.

“What the actual hell?” he whispered to himself as he looked over the still seemingly lifeless body that seemed to grasp his hand back as he began to pull the both of them back to the shore. The shore that'd never changed size, that'd still remained as dry as when he had first come out to visit, that had no signs of a growing tide. He thought about rubbing his eyes to try and refocus on what might have just happened, but salt water in the eyes wasn't exactly something pleasant. That being said, he continued pulling the both of them to shore until he could feel the sand beneath his padded feet once more.

“ Ys'uhn! ” the shriek rang through his head as he felt a sudden darkness fell his vision. His body grew weak, his grip on the body he'd rescued lost. Was this death? No...this was the beginning of something ambiguous. Something unknown to him until this very day: fear.


	3. We

[Kids](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b28Sbb2VlGQ)

_**Chapter 2: We** _

3 months had passed. Time here was nothing like home. It used to be a convoluted concept, but here it was an absolute law that no matter who it was, what they were, or where they were from, it was what it is. No individual could change it, it could not be manipulated; at least that's how it seemed, anyways. The days cycled rhythmically, but shifted ever so slightly as the days passed. One day the sun would rise at what they measured to be six o'clock in the morning, then set in the evenings around seven o'clock. This was something he passively noted in the back of his mind. Time here was absolute, but it shifted naturally until night was more common than day, and vice versa.

The days were warm here. The radiant heat that warmed his coat was projected from the star at the center of this world's system. This was also a new concept to him. Solar bodies such as these seemed to rotate around his home, but here it was the opposite. This place was the home of cosmic children, but yet they could not see what he could, nor feel what he could. It made him uncomfortable knowing that his level of thought was in a plain above theirs', but still below those whom he sought to talk to, or at least think as they do. If only they knew.

“Hey, Alix, you awake? It's nearly six-thirty and you smell like a salt mine again,” spoke the voice of someone familiar, “Don't make me have to drag your ass out of the top bunk again just to narrowly avoid being late!”

Yes...he was Alix. He shook his head as he slowly rose out of his napping position, groaning as he rubbed his still closed eyes. The concept of actually sleeping regularly was still fairly new to him, and the morning sunlight peaking through the blinds of his foster brother's window still hurt his slowly adjusting eyes, “I'm up, I'm up, I promise...” he groggily stated as he yawned, “Just give me some time to adjust my eyes. You know they're sensitive.”

“Sensitive eyes, pfft...been three months since I saved you from drowning in that freak storm and you're still using that same excuse. Just hurry up, alright? I don't wanna have to deal with the lab rats blaming me for our near-tardiness,” explained the familiar voice again. Alixandr turned around to look at him, remembering that this boy named Hunter had convinced his own foster family to accept him as one of them.

He shook his head a bit more before he finally drug himself to the ledge of the top bunk, opting to drop down onto his feet rather than climb down using the ladder, landing with a loud thud, even louder than Hunter could manage to do, “Is the flooring growing weaker as time passes?” asked Alix as he knelt down to knock on the laminated wood flooring that was layered over a solid concrete foundation.

Hunter merely raised a brow and an expression that clarified him asking, “...you remember that you weigh more than I do, right? Despite you being a lot smaller than I am.” He then began closing the door behind him, “Just meet me outside when you're done getting ready, alright? I'm gonna inhale some bad habits through some death sticks.”

“Death sticks-”

“Cigs, Alix; I'm gonna smoke while you shower. Hurry up.”

Alix nodded as he walked over towards their shared closet that was left open by his brother. Looking into their wardrobe, it was obvious that neither of them had much of a tasteful variety. On the right was Hunter's monochrome selection of the same jacket and pants, with only a different beanie hanging on each jacket's hanger, a different kind of cigarette brand in each individual jacket's main pocket on the arm, “...I still don't understand the concept of those,” Alixandr mumbled to himself as he turned to face the left where his clothes hung. His selection was no better. Multiple of the same, ironed dress shirt, sleeves folded up to where his elbows would just peak through, and a maroon colored vest buttoned over each one, only the tie changing in pattern, but remaining predominantly black. And the same field cap he'd grown connected to placed neatly atop the rack that was mounted above the pole from which those shirts hung from.

But there was a reason he saturated his wardrobe with the same outfit for day to day use. He wish he hadn't, but he couldn't help but not. In the darkest corner of that closet, hidden behind his clothing hung the robe that he'd arrived here wearing, though now it was no longer in tatters. It'd been long repaired by their foster mother, a human woman that, for some reason, did not bat an eye at Alixandr's mysterious arrival. He was thankful for what she did, but it being there...it haunted him whenever he got ready. The longer he stared, the quieter his immediate environment became, as if it was cutting him off from his new reality. The threads glowed after some time, as did the maroon spots on his body, “No,” Alixandr grumbled, “It's not yet time. Please give me more time. I promise, I will accomplish what you sent me here to do.”

The door to his room suddenly slammed open, the disgruntled growling of Hunter echoing in the room as his heavy booted footsteps grew in volume as he approached Alixandr who still stood in the closet senselessly, “Not this shit again...” he snarled as he pushed past Alix and grabbed the appropriate clothing for him from the left side of the closet, wrapping his arm around the neck of his brother in the process to drag him to the bathroom, “Shower. Now.” He stated it sternly as he pushed Alix into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Despite the abrupt behavior, Alix continued on with his morning routine. He tried not to stray too far from it. Doing so usually led him to become lost within his own mind as he panicked, hands becoming uncontrollably shaky, his vision becoming blurry yet focused on whatever he happened to catch glance of. All of these reactions to prevent him from losing himself completely, but following this routine and completing it as intended left him feeling incomplete as he looked at himself one last time in the mirror and examined his reflected person. It was him, there was no doubt about it, but every day that passed left him feeling more and more disconnected from who he was before, and why he was here now.

There was one last set of knocks on the bathroom door that indicated it was time for him to leave with his newfound brother. As he finally stepped outside, he felt a warming breeze blow past him, catching his hat for a second before he snatched it back and held it down, “There's a draft today,” Alix commented as he followed behind the still smoking Hunter, “You feel it as well, correct?”

“A draft?” Hunter asked as he held a hand upwards, trying to feel the breeze he spoke of, “Nope, no draft. That or I missed it. Seems like you've been more sensitive to weather changes lately, though.” He chuckled a bit, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Hunter knew not to alter their route towards their destination under any circumstance, no matter the weather or situation. A regular routine kept his brother calm and focused, and helped him keep his own sanity when it risked Alixandr's integrity.

However...this did not prevent Hunter from feeling a form of guilt for what they did on a daily basis to Alix at The Tower. He was assured by those in charge there would be no reason to worry about his brother when they checked him in for the few hours he stayed. He had his doubts, though, despite Alixandr's willingness to play along and reassure him that he was okay. He knew he wasn't, and he knew Alix knew that he was lying to both him and himself-

“ _ **I was never okay-”**_

Thankfully each session was followed by Hunter taking him to explore the city. It was exciting and interesting to explore the old tunnels that were no longer used for public transportation, even though it sometimes felt like there were things that still lurked in them, following the two as they let curiosity take hold, overshadowing their actions. It felt like a presence, something omnipotent, something...malicious. But maybe it was all in their heads, because Hunter only saw Alix behind him, and Alix-

“ _ **We were never alone-”**_

They left the tunnels, despite the trains no longer being active, nor the sub-surface city being alive like it used to. It'd become an underground slum town, but there was a form of comfort knowing that even the lowest of lives were able to make a living, even if it was from illegal activity. Hunter couldn't judge, and Alixandr knew not to. No life was worth less than another, but not everyone saw it this way. But that did not stop the two from helping when they could. People above and below saw the two anthromorphic boys mostly as a blessing, something they did not deserve having known their own peoples' past treatment of people like Hunter and Alix-

“ _ **They lied to us, to you, to you-”**_

The Tower...it was so akin to his home, and despite what he endured there, he felt a form of selflessness putting his own life and sanity on the line for the humans that sought to better understand what they used to hate-

“ _ **They learned the truth; the time they had was up-”**_

But perhaps it should have been approached differently on someone they had a better grasp on handling. Their attempts at trying to map out the mind of Alixandr revealed something they were never prepared to learn-

“ _ **We are you.”**_


	4. Dissonance

[7:17](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jXLmr6c6i8)

[1:42](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIHowCt7yAM)

_**Chapter 3: Dissonance** _

They called it snow. They said it was crystallized, frozen water. That it was rare, that it was natural. That it fell without warning, and only stuck in the right conditions. They called this winter, but this...this was not winter. It was cold. It was wet, humid even. It hurt to breathe the icy fog, as if daggers ripped their way into your lungs with every second. This was not winter. This was not natural. The crystals that floated around were indeed flakes of snow, but they did not belong here. They fell and stuck to any surface, natural or not. Most would melt, evaporate even, but some would stick as if mocking you, knowing that it was they who were causing you to breathe knives.

It was now May. Winter had come, but it never left. It never ended. In fact, it was induced early come that day in mid July. The day that The Tower and its corporation made a discovery. A discovery so dangerous that any being working within it saw things they were never meant to see, that their peaceful minds would never handle. They had conditioned themselves to never face it, as it seemed out of reach. But that's why The Tower was constructed, so pry at the gates of knowledge and help both human and beast-kind ascend past something they felt they desired. That they felt they...needed. An unsettling thirst for the truth.

“ _They had found it, and I had helped him find them...”_

The Tower and its corporation were a 'for prophet' agency. Monetary gain was not their intention, yet they were funded to no end by neighboring or allied nations. The Tower had grown in power that it eventually became its own entity within the center of New York, an independent nation that covered ground no more than a full sized city block. It was something that was referenced in stories, that inspired movies, that became a hub for a notorious 'cult' that thought its purpose was for something else. The Tower never acknowledged any of it, but yet let those that wanted to feed their own opinions to tour their facilities. It was only three months prior to that previous July that it had finally seen its opportunity, and that opportunity lied within that one boy: Alix.

His appearance was not a coincidence, and The Tower knew that. They'd discovered a way to track disturbances in local space relative to the Earth. What they hadn't predicted was the disturbance occurring so close to home, nor could they have predicted the boy that rescued Alix being a factor in their plans, or how he's naturally fall into place, as if it was fate. Fate that they now took advantage of and deliberately manipulated to fit their own agenda. Hunter's job offer of a lifetime working for The Tower was not pure luck, but the volunteering of his newfound foster brother was yet something else that took the corporation by surprise.

Over the course of the three month period of controlled investigation by the research division within The Tower, things began to slowly fall into place. Alix's mind contained knowledge of civilization beyond what was known on Earth. It gave them insight that other universes existed parallel to their own. They came to discover his own origins, his childhood, his romantic interest...they pried his mind, and he willingly let them do so. These were the first steps.

The deeper they dug, the more curious they became, until that curiosity evolved into knowledge. They began to extract intelligence that spanned beyond what Alixandr originally let them onto. About his people, about their culture, about his home. But yet...they persisted, as if trying to solve some kind of puzzle. What they hadn't realized was that the boy was trying to warn them. He gave signs, he gave heed, he even vocally spoke of his race, his species, his being to them outside of the neurological tech that they used to monitor and virtualize his mind. But The Tower was a 'for prophet' agency, and this boy...he was just that.

The persistent research continued even beyond Alixandr's signs, but yet he did not ask them to hold off. He was past it, but yet as a final heed he essentially blocked off his mind to their machinery, and that still did not stop them from persevering. The inability to see the signs that perhaps there were things that were not meant to be discovered, to be knowledgeable of...

“ _They were exactly the same as us...”_

Suspicion began to arise from other nations that awaited The Tower's so-called 'entry to the beyond'. Despite the planet's nations quickly advancing in technology and growing their cities at an astounding rate, the world needed more. And none saw a greater need than the nation The Tower originated from: The Neo States. The nation birthed from the union of many allied nations in order to help each other with resources, commerce, and growth as not a people, but a planet. What started as a single nation of united states and territories bloomed into a transcontinental unification. There were many that still remained independent, but the NS remained the largest and most prominent. And this time it wasn't just humankind, but Earthkind.

The eerie silence from The Tower wasn't the concern of the NS. It was the risk of what it meant to them, to the world. Although The Tower's research and development did help them before, this session of silence meant two likely events: a plan to manipulate and perform a power move that would but The Tower in charge of the NS, or a deep disturbance was close to being realized. And despite their opportunity of infiltration being so sudden, Hunter was only able to get the NS so much information.

Hunter was hired by the NS less than a year prior to The Tower's radio silence. He was told that his physical and mental prowess were something they'd been unable to find in any of their previous human or beastkin recruits, but yet Hunter had never done anything in particular to make himself stand out. He was reserved, focused on what he was told to, and didn't go out of his way to make himself appear better. The NS had a plan, and for some reason he was part of it. He was given the rank of 'Agent', simply meaning that he was an infiltrator. But why did the NS want to infiltrate the ranks of The Tower? And why was everything falling into place as if it was fate? He wasn't usually one to believe in that kind of nonsense, especially since the passing of his foster father was titled 'fateful'. He hated the term...

“ _It was not fate, nor was it chance. You knew that...”_

“...I witnessed it first hand, Sophia. I saw everything, in that moment, that one flash of a moment. Things I never knew existed, hell, should exist at all! Things I would have rather never seen or knew of, but yet here I am now. A broken man trying to save whatever is left...no, whoever is left. And yet I also still find myself wanting to try and save him,” grieved a depressed wolf as he held his head up with a single hand, his other gripped around the barrel of a broken rifle, the clip removed and the stock resting against the ground, “Why didn't I try to stop them?”

“You didn't try because you let him convince you that he was okay. This entire situation was his plan-” spoke the words of a girl, an amphibious thresher shark at that, though she was abruptly cut off.

“This was never his plan, please drop that allegation! He never intended this, not on his own. I knew his mental health wasn't the best, I accepted that. But I would have never thought...” the strong bodied and once thought monotonous emotion boy growled, even sniffling a bit, “I couldn't have predicted that he was being used by some...thing. Some monstrosity that I can't even try to piece together an image of without feeling like something is ripping at my very being, my very essence...yet it feels like it's threatening to finally come here. We have to sa-”

The girl slapped Hunter with such a force that it drew blood from his upper jowl, “Save who, Hunter?! Alixandr was never an ally! He was never here to be the brother you always wanted because you grew up a beast-kin adopted into a human family! Look at yourself...” she commented as she stepped back a few steps, pointing out his current appearance, “You look _pathetic_ , Hunter. The so-called leader of the people trying to survive this nightmare is _crying_ because he can't admit he was wrong about a supposed foster sibling he only knew for three. Whole. Months.” She then grabbed the damaged weapon from Hunter's grasp, or attempted to anyways.

His grip on the weapon had tightened for a moment as he lifted it and himself up from his seated position, pulling the weapon away from the girl as he threw it aside. Sophia became distracted by the weapon, not taking notice that the opposite hand of Hunter rapidly grabbed her by the throat, pushing her into the wall behind her, but his grip was not tight enough to choke her, merely sliding up and up under her jaw as he forced her to look straight into his gaze, “...I appreciate your version of a pep talk, but I will not tolerate insubordination from the girl that I found hiding in The Tower, contemplating if her own life was worth continuing that first day. You considered suicide, but I offered you a chance to run. You and your corporation are the cause for this happening more directly than you think. I'm only doing what I can to keep you from going back to where you're from, and keep others from being led there themselves,” he explained sternly, but was met with yet another slap to his muzzle, and a sudden but short kiss.

Sophia hissed as she did so, pulling and facing away from him, “You knew from the very first day of you visiting The Tower what I was, where I was from, yet here you are trying to keep me alive along with numerous human and beast-kin survivors. It's not like you have anything to live up to anymore but a symbol of hope for these people. They're more than likely aware that they won't be living much longer, they're not stupid. So why? Why do you want to save us so badly?”

The wolf stared at her as she looked down at the ground. She was right, he'd known since the first day he came into contact with her that she wasn't from this place originally, but she was no prophet of this current apocalypse. Her journey here was accidental and caused little disturbance. Her recruitment into The Tower was deliberate, but that was to preserve knowledge of their ultimate end goal. Her scent was familiar. Brine, unnatural. It usually filled the air when standing within a meter of Alix, and for her it was no difference. He'd met other sharks, but their levels of briny scent didn't hold a candle to this, “You didn't cause this, not you yourself anyways. I'll admit, I lashed out, and I apologize, but to answer your question,” he began, stepping away from her as her fixed his worn coat, placing a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it with a match, “My father, that human man you keep using to try and guilt trip me about...he was a good Samaritan. He was a military veteran that acted selflessly even after his multiple tours, even volunteering for the force when officers were spread thin. He loved seeing that people like us and people like him could live in harmony. His shortcoming had little to do with the quiet war against racism. He had a vision for people to continue to live, even if it meant his own life being lost. And while I don't particularly plan on dying, I'd rather pass away trying to make sure you and everyone else survives as best they can.”

“...that's some hubris, Hunter. Couldn't you just sum it up as 'because it's the right thing'? The uh...monologue, a bit excessive,” she teased as she walked over to the broken weapon, picking it up, “You should take that sudden burst of newfound confidence and let everyone outside know that we're gonna end this soon. I may have ended up here by accident, but I don't want it to be my grave. Not yet. I know you don't want to do it when it comes...” she explained as she gripped the rifle tightly, “But if you don't, I will. I know his kind. We're kin, and I know exactly where his mind is. Your brother is gone, Hunter. Please, for all of our sake's...please accept that.”

He merely huffed with a nod as he trudged out from the dark room into the dim sunlight that barely peered through the clouds and into the broken glass panes of the building he was resting in. The rays hurt his eyes as he fought to keep them open against a sudden chilling gust that swept across the courtyard before him. A courtyard occupied by survivors, far and few, human and beast. People that saw a genuine chance for the world to return, but yet also questioned it. Could they really put their faith into the dark haired boy? He stood at the entrance atop a broken wall, his hands shoved into his jacket's pockets. His body language said he was cold, afraid, but his booming voice as he spoke, “...the world is not here for us, but we're here for the world. For each other. My brother- no...Alixandr's presence has brought a fear into this world, into our hearts and minds, that we couldn't have predicted. This is his nightmare that is being brought to fruition by the ones that he calls his 'gods'. He is a harbinger. A harbinger of nightmares, of fear, of worry. His mind has projected itself into a reality and we are being forced to fight it off as he did before he caved in.”

“For nearly a year we've faced this hellish winter, no...hell seems tame compared to this, doesn't it? Hell doesn't involve fighting to find edible scraps that haven't been frostbitten by this weather. Hell would at least try to keep you alive to continue to torture you, yet here we are in a nightmare far beyond hell. This nightmare wants us dead, and every single one of you that hasn't given in...you're as much leaders to yourselves as you think I am to you,” he continued, taking a pained, deep breath, pointing behind him to the north, “To the north is where they gather, near The Tower. The center of the city, where it all happened. They hide in the old subway systems, in that underground city. Their supposed dreams are now tarnished, turned to nightmares like this world. They've been mutated, influenced by something we cannot and will not allow ourselves to hear or see. What they once thought was salvation from reality has caused them to nose-dive straight into mental slavery.”

“And I don't know about any of you, but I would rather die knowing that I fought to deliver us from a life of slavery to something we can't comprehend than be contorted into a physical embodiment of whatever this timeline holds...”

“ _You inspired them, but you still could not save them...”_

The underground city that mapped itself out below the city was connected to itself by using the abandoned rail system tunnels. It had expanded into something it was never designed to be, but even before his sudden rise in influence, there was a sect that dwelled and expanded the underground city into a city of its own, and all of it centralized below The Tower. The subterra civilization had managed to mimic the building above them, but from the inside out, mirrored against its foundation. There were others expecting the prodigal boy even moreso than The Tower itself, for within the deepest parts of that Reversed Tower was a room that mimicked his prison at home.

“...how long have you all known?” questioned the shaky voice of a boy, still distraught with his actions.

“Since the day you inhaled your first breath of R'lyehian air, boy,” spoke a hissy voiced, hunched silhouette, “Did you really think our people were restricted to the cold, wet city? We've been able to freely travel longer than you know. It's all part of what he wants us to do for him.”

“Who do you mean by 'he' and 'him'?” Alixandr questioned as he circled the chair fashioned from stone almost identical to the one he was pulled from that day.

“Not who you think, but who you should know. Or...perhaps that is why you're here, because you want to know?”

“I know who-”

“No you don't, child!” exclaimed the figure as they came into the dim light, a gas mask fixed over their face, hiding their facial features. It was obvious that this person had been here for so long that the stale air down here needed enrichment from the special canisters attached to it, “That is why you're here, to finally find out...the truth, and who you should be talking to. You were not talking to the one who sleeps, no. You were...influenced, to think so. And it has worked!” The short figure cackled as it grabbed its head, its figure still hidden by the robe it wore.

Alixandr could not determine its gender. It was beyond anything recognizable as a person, but rather a thrall, “Explain yourself, rat-”

He was met with an abrupt punch to the gut, the force so strong that it gave away the supposed thrall's physical prowess, bringing him to his knees temporarily, “I am no rat, child!” they exclaimed as they stood straight up, the sound of bones and joints popping into proper place echoing in the room, “Such an ignorant child. Ahj'lien's bloodline seems almost wasted with you. Perhaps...a second child, is needed.” The voice was much more feminine, primal even.

“...I know of you. Not who you are, but of you. You're-”

“An old member of the Elders, yes. Good, you're beginning to pick up on-” her speech was cut short by the sudden flying of an object in her direction, but thrown from nowhere near where Alixandr stood. It was a book, the same one that Alixandr had last read from before he was dragged here, “Insolent child!”

Alixandr merely stood there, the fur on his arms and hands standing on its own, that sharp yellow gaze of his glowing intensely, “Those eyes...so you did manage it after all, yet you still ended up here. You're either foolish or you think you can outdo fate. You're an ignorant child of R'lyeh, a defiant one-!”

Another object flew from the other end of the room, this time it was rubble that had been cut into an almost perfect circle and flung at such speed that it nearly made contact with the woman's cranium, causing her to growl and hiss in frustration, “Perhaps I was wrong...yes, no, this works in our favor...” she spoke to herself as she stepped away back into the dark corners of the room, “He is indeed the first harbinger...” The talking turned to whispers until nothing but silence was met.

Alix frantically looked around for an exit, but could not see one. Only when he heard the sound of a stone door being shut did he realize there was a way out, but where? Where was it? No, no...it was helpless. Once more he was bound to the room that enslaved him before.

“ _There were two, and I confused one for the other...”_

Days had passed before Alix found himself dragged from his dimly lit room to a central atrium and sat before a surrounding crowd large enough to rival that of the stadium's capacity above ground, all built down here below The Tower. From behind him walked the Elder that had locked him away for what felt like another lifetime, her arms raised as she looked up and around at all of the faces that gathered, both human and beast. It seemed as though she would have never removed the mask, but in an instant she ripped the apparatus from her face, revealing the scarification tattoos that riddled her face. They were phrases written in R'lyehian tongue, and the sight of her face drove the crowd both mad and caused them to rejoice in cult-like unison, “...you've built a cult? All this time here and you've done nothing but build a cult to praise our pe-” he was met with an abrupt slap to the face, rendering him half conscious as he tried to regain his focus.

“On behalf of my forefather, I welcome you all once again to our place of understanding, knowledge, and truth. May he bless you all by sacrificing those who stand against him for your own gain!” she exclaimed as she bowed, turning her head slightly to face Alixandr with a sly smile, “As was predicted, he has delivered us...his idol! His avatar!”

The crowd once more roared in both fear and joy, some doing so much as to even reach out towards him as he sat there dazed, “...avatar?” he questioned with a mumble as he continued into and out of consciousness. The screaming from the supposed cultists began to drive him mad. This was never his intention.

“Gaze upon him, and feed your lust for the truth in all that is he himself. His time is upon us, and when it comes you shall see for yourselves that you are here for a purpose beyond that of a nation, a people...you will become gods among the mortal!” she continued to exclaim and hype the crowd, an unsettling chant beginning to repeat as she turned to face Alix head on, kneeling to meet his gaze, “Perhaps all you need is some...inspiration, Harbinger.” She rose once more, turning around to point to two robed figures carrying what looked like some kind of staff towards them, but it was not simply a staff.

As the two approached closer with the supposed catalyst, Alix's conscious began to clear up, his vision becoming solid once more, but it was far too late as he looked up to see what exactly it was that the two robed cultists brought before him. It was not something that was molded, but rather constructed and forced together using whatever scrapped resources could be found to hold together the disgusting figure. Its base was stone, but its shaft was not, for it was a forced together pair of spinal cords, still covered in flesh. Flesh that he recognized as his own people's. It dripped the two's still fresh blood onto the floor before him. They...were Alphas. He could smell it in their crimson. He shuddered as he continued to work his gaze up the decrepit idol, only to be disgustingly astounded by what was fixed to the top, _“How did they find a Lupine One?”_ he whispered to himself as he found his gaze locked with the empty socketed skull of what was once thought to be the original beginnings of the Ngirrth'lu.

The crowd continued to chant. The Elder continued to smile. The idol continued to bleed. But Alixandr...was now lost. Lost in a fight within his own mind between two gods that fought to kill off the other, but the idol before him gave influence to the one that he had no intention of speaking to, but was now forced to. This was what it felt like to have destiny forced upon you. This was the manipulation of fate. This...this wasn't a nightmare. The days of those easily conquerable bad dreams were no longer. This was real.

As his gaze remained locked with the decrepit idol he found himself standing to meet its gaze in a straight forward fashion. His breathing intensified. His sclera grew darker, and the sharp yellow rings of his eyes began to glow with a sinister fashion. He stumbled back, as if still fighting. This, however, was a fight he had lost. Alixandr was no more. He stumbled forward, grabbing onto the soft cords of his now deceased brethren. He felt a shock within his own mind as images of the girl he'd fallen for began to flee his mind, along with the final moments of the two Alphas he held in his grasp. They were gone along with him. He slowly lifted the idol above him, letting the crimson shower him slowly...

“ _Ngirrth'lu had finally won...”_


	5. Beginning of the End

[22:41](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpwer4u6e1c)

[Haltija](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxItkGRyYpk)

_**Chapter 4: Beginning of the End** _

The dawn of that next day set forth in motion the beginnings of seemingly endless and mindless bloodshed. The cultists, dedicated to seeing their tainted vision of the world through the prophetic actions of Alixandr, outnumbered those who continued to fight to survive in this half frozen wasteland nearly six to one. They used any means to see to that their end goal was met, but their fight, despite having the numbers, was an uphill battle. Many were of the elite, the spoiled, and the simple minded. They had never known the struggle of what it meant to fight for something, for someone. They saw the world as theirs, each individual. It was, to each, their own world. There was no 'we', only 'I' and 'he'.

Those that followed the actions of the boy, Alixandr, only saw to bring the world to its knees for good. The world was supposed to obey them. They ran the political spectrum, the businesses that everyone used, they were 'the world's wealth'. However, numbers tend to fall off over time. Resources began to spread even more thin than before. The numbers of the cultists began to drop, many dying before seeing themselves turned into contorted beings, or choosing to die before it came to that point. Some saw that perhaps their visions...were false, and they'd been manipulated into plans bigger than themselves. These ones tried to flee, but the seeds of corruption were already planted. They, too, eventually found themselves on the edge of losing themselves to what they thought they wanted, or the edge of a building's roof line.

Some, despite the commands to not, wandered carelessly into the streets of the city, away from the safety that was the underground sanctuary. Perhaps they should have listened and stay put. The surviving groups of the sane hunted here, as commanded by Hunter. Guerrilla tactics were common. Where there were large groups of scouting cultists, there were lookouts watching and tracking their every move, every action. Where there were smaller groups or individuals, Hunter was nearby ready to eliminate them, along with any who were combat capable. Much like that of the stories of the Old West, this city had become a ghost town, haunted by the ghosts still clinging to it. Those 'ghosts' became a target for Alix.

For weeks the survivors had picked off his followers, and while his numbers still outweighed those of the survivors, it was becoming a nuisance. Any additional killing of 'his' food would be...unsatisfactory. After over a month of brooding below the surface in the tunnels, he finally surfaced, along with every last cultist, including the supposed Elder. Many now donned masks over their pale faces, decrepit tendrils squirming around the edges. The female Elder had direct command over these ones. Alixandr had simply become their face.

“ _They were senseless, dense. They did not know...”_

“Hmph...” grunted Hunter as he sat perched atop the roof of an old, abandoned apartment complex, scouting over the area while many of the survivors rested within it, “He's been moving again recently. But his patterns...” Hunter paused, pulling a pair of tattered binoculars out from his jacket pocket, using them to watch over where Alixandr had been and was heading to, “...they're deliberately avoiding us. Or he is, anyways. They're just following. They know by now that wandering gets them killed, but this is...organized.”

“Organized, Hunter? They're mindless thralls at this point. Don't even think of trying to salvage any kind of brotherhood with Alix. He's gone, trust me,” commented Sophia as she filled her claws down to round nubs using the stock of her rifle, “We need to make our move before-”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of terrified screaming from down below, Hunter immediately rushing past her to the side of the building to make his way down the access stairs and ladders down to street level, but he'd already arrived too late. A child that was traveling with Hunter's group had wandered outside, and now they had become a hostage under the watchful eye and hold of the last one he expected to stand before him, “...let the kid go, Alix. Children should not be inv-”

“Children have always been involved, Hunter,” Alixandr stated as he gently shoved the child behind him for the female Elder to grab hold of the girl, “You would not understand this point even if I explained it to you in detail. Oh, wait...you do.” He stood there, his expression was blank as usual, the only noticeable characteristic of his standing out as usual being his sickly yellow, glowing eyes. In his right hand he held the idol that captivated him, it now hardened and dry as if it were a weapon, even the tail ends of the spinal cords sharpened to a point, “Explain your interpretation, Hunter...”

Hunter stood there, knowing what Alixandr was hinting at, and why he had found them here. He looked up a the building, taking notice of Sophia's current perch, before turning back to face Alixandr, “My interpretation of your own mindset isn't what's important, Alix. Now, hand the kid ov-”

“I said explain it, Hunter!” Alixandr exclaimed, an eerie screech echoing off of the surrounding sky scrapers, many glass windows shattering, “You've seen my thoughts, my memories! You know what's going on here, yet you're here trying to reassure yourself and these supposed 'survivors' that you'll get through it if I'm yet to even give the word that you will!”

In that instant he felt a sharp noise ring in his ears, causing Alixandr to duck rapidly, the sound of a specialized round flying over him and towards the female Elder that stood behind him. Within seconds he noticed her begin to seemingly burn, leaving no ashes as the wound that had penetrated her chest spread slowly. His expression did not change, save for a slight smirk that grew as he stood back up straight, ignoring the child that ran back towards Hunter, “...that was your ace in the hole, but now it's turned into mine, Hunter. You have a R'lyehian in your ranks, don't you?” he asked as he looked up towards the window that Sophia had fired that one shot from, “Thank you; now I can get on with what I was truly destined for.”

Alixandr turned and continued to watch the Elder burn on the ground, kneeling down beside them as he dropped the idol on their decaying corpse knowing they could still feel and hear, “What is happening here is happening in R'lyeh. You cannot stop this. Nobody ever will. Not even Ngirrth'lu himself,” he stated as an unworldly screech echoed within everyone's minds nearby, “I do not deal with false gods. You shouldn't either. Look at where it's gotten you, rat.” He smiled as he stood back up, giving a single hand motion to let his followers know that he was now pulling the strings for his own. Many of them stood around confused, and as such they were mentally destroyed as their consciousness' blacked, and their bodies fell limp to the ground, beginning to decay and burn as the Elder's did. He left silently, those that understood doing the same and leaving the survivors to their temporary safety.

Hunter continued to stand in disbelief. Had that been Alix's plan all along? Or was it a manipulation of fate? But yet...he always knew. From that very moment that Alixandr's mind burst open to corrupt this city, this world, he saw this. He denied it as the truth because it all seemed as though it was simply another bad dream, until he woke up and found Sophia, “...I was right.”

“ _No one understood me. No one else could understand him. I was his **Harbinger**...”_

Alixandr and his followers found themselves at the center of the city once more, facing The Tower's southern face. This was the source of this madness. Where it all bloomed from, and it would be where the beginning of how it ended started. The tunnels and the underground city...they were like diseased roots that ran below the tree of tainted life that was The Tower. But now they would become the roots of impending chaos. Those that followed Alixandr still are the ones he had reached out to on the mental plane over the course of this entire catastrophe. They knew the true purpose, they knew that actual truth. These followers were not the spoiled, the elite, the privileged or the simple minded. These were the individuals that consciously knew what they wanted alongside Alixandr.

“ _Cthulhu nafl'fhtagn...”_

The mass of still following cultists, both human and beast, began to chant in unison as Alixandr became the catalyst for their deepest, darkest wants. From the north, the southeast, and southwest arose giant tendrils of pure chaotic and hateful essence. They towered as high as The Tower itself, and rivaling its mass, “...now it begins,” Alixandr stated as he placed his arms behind his back as he took a few steps back. It only took a few moments before the towering limbs began to crash down against, into, and through The Tower and its foundation. The booming and collapsing of the building shook the city, but the slamming of the tendrils shook the very earth from where they formed. And as the destruction continued, more formed, joining in on the carnage that Alixandr had ensued upon The Tower.

His followers watched in silence as he destroyed the monolith that once stood for what they thought they wanted. Ash, dirt, and rubble began to blind all of their vision as the sound of everything The Tower stood for collapsed and crumbled infinitely. They could not see it, but they knew the foundation was crumbling. The very ground upon where The Tower once stood began to sink. They turned to look at Alixandr, only noticing that his arms and hands were raised up, his eyes closed, and a smile of satisfaction stretched across his expression. This boy, this child...he feigned being broken. He feigned ignorance. He faked his fear and obsession with the idol so that he, as a Harbinger, no- The Harbinger, The First Harbinger, could bring into fruition not his vision, but both of their visions. He was split mentally, lost even. His mind was torn between two planes, and his rapidly decaying sanity as his smile turned to distraught cackling was only the first of many signs. The cultist followers were now filled with a nightmarish fear that they could not comprehend. They began to run away from Alixandr.

Some turned back to face Alix from a distance, noticing the changing of his appearance as grotesque, flightless wings burst from his shoulder blades, each different in shape and design. His right was tattered and donned the same coat of fur as his own, while his left was wet, black, tattered and short. The destruction of the tendrils continued until nothing but dust and ash littered the air of the city around the original foundation of The Tower. It was more painful than usual to breath the cold, dagger filled air as the debris invaded your lungs if you did not filter it with a cloth. But that was not the concern.

From the south, Hunter and Sophia rushed towards the ever growing cloud of chaos. They had chosen to leave the others behind as this is where all the danger had centralized, and they knew why. Their breathing became more erratic the closer they got to the the center of the city, but that did not convince them to stop and wait it out. This needed to be stopped before whatever it was Alixandr foresaw became real, “Why the hell won't you explain to me what's going on, Hunter?!” asked Sophia, now agitated with more than just her missing the one shot she thought could end this all.

Their sprinting came to a stop as they attempted to catch their breaths from the sharp air, Hunter still keeping his vision focus on the still growing cloud, “That's not what's imp-”

“That's exactly what's important, Hunter! You're keeping me in the dark about all of this. I didn't see what you saw that first day, and you refuse to tell me, to tell anyone! Why is this escalating like this?!”

“Because this is no longer a war of them versus us, Sophia!” Hunter exclaimed with a roar, “Alix is being made into a medium between there and here, between your home and mine! He's being manipulated by two...two of those things your race calls gods! I need to stop- no...I need to save him. I have to...”

Once more Sophia slapped him, attempting to smack sense back into her partner, “Hunter, listen to yourself, please! Look at me, not him or what he's causing. There's nothing we can do, and I'd rather not lose the only person here that I actually care for...love, even.”

He took a deep breath, the sting of her hand still causing his face to throb, but his sight never faltered from focusing on the center. His brother was there, he knew he was. Not just his body, but he himself. Despite Sophia grasping his jacket to keep him from continuing, he went, letting his jacket slip off as he continued into a full sprint. Sophia tailed behind for only a short bit before stopping, an expression of fear and despair crossing her face, “No...”

“ _You were the only one that knew what was happening, yet you stayed quiet like me, because brotherhood is not decided by blood only...”_

It was as if he was wading through and jumping over crowds of people that stood in awe of what was happening, like mindless masses. Their very souls littered the ground, the ones that passed on that first day from the masses, their bodies gone to a curse of decay and disintegration. Their minds were weak, so were their bodies. What he was vaulting over and under as he ran towards Alixandr was the rubble and destruction caused by his actions. The cloud that kept growing before began to slowly settle as he approached closer with every step, almost as if it was welcoming him to the center of the city.

For almost three months he thought- no, knew he had found a brother. Even if he was a variable in the inevitable fate that this world was destined for, he could not see Alix as the reason for all of this. He was innocent. He was being manipulated, and maybe if he's been more attentive those last few days, he could've stopped this. Those monstrosities that threatened his brother's mind could change the direction of this world, so why couldn't he?

He tripped on a large piece of re-bar, causing him to tumble forward and land face first into the thick blanket of ice, ash, and dust. His sight was now set on the sky. He never noticed it was green before, because the clouds of doubt and fear covered it. It used to be blue, “...not today,” he grunted as he pulled himself back up onto his feet, setting back into a full rush towards Alix. He looked behind him just once to see that the dust and ash now covered it, but yet it was clear before him as he approached even closer, “You want me to save you, I know it!” Hunter exclaimed to himself as he stayed ever pursuant to reach Alix.

The journey seemed longer than it should have, but he'd finally reached his brother...or so he thought. Alixandr turned around to face hunter for a moment, a blank expression on his face, but yet a stream of tears flowed from his eyes. It was the expression of a boy that has been broken, afraid, and now guilty of what he's ensued. His shoulders hung low as he stood there, a tormented soul still clinging onto whatever he could. The illusion of having to run as long as he had was deliberate, but not by Alixandr, but those that were approaching. He shook his head in Hunter's direction. This was bait.

Hunter stopped in his steps as he read Alixandr's body language from the short distance he was from him, but behind him he could hear the footsteps of another individual rushing to this same point. The wolf turned his head slightly to see it was Sophia. He made the assumption that she was heading for Alix herself, so he began to sprint towards his brother as well, only to be shoved back and away with such a force by the thresher that he almost felt lied to by her physical strength.

It felt as though time had slowed down for those last few moments. Sophia had turned towards Hunter with a smile, eyes watery before she closed them, and let fate be manipulated by her own doing. From the massive sinkhole that seemed endless, where The Tower and its foundation once stood, rose the arm of a twisted being. Its decrepit fingers were webbed and the smell of toxic brine suddenly filled the air as its grasp suddenly took both Alixandr and Sophia, pulling them down into the massive hole so rapidly that Hunter was only able to watch in shock, fear, and anger. He stood back up and approached the ledge of the massive sinkhole and looked down. Nothing.

There was nothing but an abyss that led to nowhere except a dark, quiet hell. He considered jumping, hoping that maybe he'd be able to possibly save the both of them, but...no. He'd done it. From the very depths of the massive void could be heard water and waves crashing into each other, as if the ocean from the first time he'd seen Alixandr had returned to taunt him. He was wrong again. There was a sudden burst of salt water that fired from the hole like a cannon before it fell back in and calmly rose to the same level as the shore.

It was still, but crashing waves could be heard. It was even colder than usual, but yet the water did not freeze. He stepped back, and for a few brief moments he thought he heard both Alix and Sophia speaking at the same time, _“This nightmare was never the intention. I'm sorry, Hunter.”_

The ground below him shook violently as the still water began to ripple and splash. Something was approaching fast, and he doubted it was friendly. Around the farther rim of the hole could be seen any remaining and surviving cultists, now fearful for their lives as they all shouted two names in mercy, “Cthulhu! Ngirrth'lu!” Their cries went unheard as a decrepit figure burst from the water, almost as if it was flying at a pace faster than they could see. Hunter could not see it. He chose not to see it as he hid himself underneath debris to prevent further corruption of his own mind. He merely saw a tattered tail floating above the water, an unworldly shriek echoing throughout the city. But the beast did not manage to get far as the same, or similar, limb that had grabbed hold of Alix and Sophia shot out from below the water's surface as well, grabbing hold of the monstrosity's tail.

For a moment he thought he saw the very thing that he thought was going to destroy this world, the head of that octopoid god. But yet...it did not surface as it dragged whatever beast was flying above back down into the water until its screeches were muffled by the water once more. The tone was piercing, it drove him to hold onto the last of his sanity as he managed to see the face of that decrepit wolf-like monstrosity before finally blacking out.

“ _Your world was never a target, nor were your people, but it was the most suitable. Everything had been planned since before our births, and I was made to manipulate them. You did not deserve this. No one did. That's why we returned when we did. I could not let my failure to do what I was destined to do go without redemption. I had to come back to finish what I left unfinished...”_


	6. Epilogue: A New Life

[Snowcone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amBBO4PqJKo)

_**Epilogue: A New Life** _

_“That day I was pulled back to R'lyeh was something I never expected. I never foresaw it. I'm still unable to determine if it was ever Cthulhu's intention. I only remember snippits of the journey back. I could see myself, and Sophia. We were both torn from ourselves as we watched our bodies turn to nothing, yet we could see each other. And before I knew it, I was locked back in that prison I called my room within the Brood Tower. Vythica was missing and the Headmistress refused to tell me what had happened to her. Instead I was interrogated about my return by the Elder Council. They, too, did not expect my return.”_

_**“But did they have to build a new city with the last you'd ever expect? I remember waking up myself, underneath all of that rubble. Rubble that you caused. Any surviving, including cultists that decided not to test fate again with praising of things they'll never understand, banned together and began recovering. Other nations visited after the whole event, and they were just as confused of the inclement, unending winter as we were. But yet now we're here in a new city, building a new life. Your people and...all of us, is what I meant.”**_

_“Yes, yes, all of us. The Ngirrth'luin and any remaining humans and beast-born. I remember, unfortunately. I think perhaps the worst part of it all was the mental disease that made humans extinct...strange that very few to almost no beast-born were affected.”_

_**“Because of the 'truth'.”**_

_“The Truth, yes...”_

_**“So why is it that our history books were filled with lies about us having been around for so long?”**_

_“Those are not lies. What you were all titled as and where you all supposedly originate from is. There's a reason we're all children in this. It's a subject that cannot be made known to the public here, though. It would ruin the balance and respect between those who know and those who don't. Mass mental madness shouldn't be forced upon people.”_

_**“Hmph...I still find it funny that you have three kids yourself, old man. And two of the three have been on my watch since they became open and active.”**_

_“They are trouble, I will admit. But look at their mother, then look at me. Now look at yourself and Sophie...that's dedication. Technology developed by your own hands to preserve your memories while you transfer between bodies that you cloned of yourself. I still remember your reaction to seeing her come through with us. Hard to tell if it was fear, shock, or worry._

_**“...she was reborn. I couldn't allow myself, even if I want to. That's almost a taboo, if not absolutely one. I should detain you right now just for bringing that back up again after how long you've been here...”**_

_“Detaining me would mean treason on its own level. You'd also be arresting your own brother, Hunter Scott the Third.”_

_**“Just get going, Alix. I'm glad that we reflected back on all of that, but we can't fix the past. Best to move on...”**_


End file.
